The Daughter of our Enemy
by Itako no Anna Kyoyama
Summary: 200 years after the death of the Nakama, Aizen reigns over both Soul Society and Earth. The reincarnations of Ichigo and Rukia,among others, are born...but Rukia is the daughter of the enemy. And Ichigo wants to kill her father. [IchiRuki, IshiHime]
1. Prouloge

A/N: Ok. I had an inspiration whilst listening to Prince of Egypt music. So, thusly, I started my very first Bleach fan fiction. Leave comments, please! And I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: There will be sex later in this fic, along with mature themes. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters. They are property of Kubo Tite. This fic is my idea, however.

Pairings: IchiRuki, slight KaienRuki, one sided IchiHime and RenRuki, IshiHime, along with hints at other pairings.

---Prolouge---

"It's just ahead."

"Are you ready?"

"...As ready as I'll ever be."

The orange haired male glanced at the young woman next to him, then behind at their friends. The white, yet strangely dark halls of Las Noches seemed to echo with their footsteps; the group had given up any thoughts of being quiet long ago. They had one goal.

Kill Aizen.

"Ichigo--whatever happens here, don't die." Came the voice of the short woman next to him, her shunpo step challenging his in speed. The named male simply smirked at her, eyes flashing. "Yeah. You too, Rukia."

The doors that lead to the main hall were open and waiting when they reached them.

The Espada, normal Arrancar, Muenos Grandes, and the three heads--Aizen, Gin, and Tousen--waited for them there. Waited for the band of friends. Waited to show them to their death.

They fought bravely. Ishida, Chad, Orihime, Renji, Rukia, and Ichigo. They fought with all they had, even the recently rescued Orihime.

They fought their best, but it was not enough.

"Don't die, Ichigo."

"You too, Rukia."

The end came sooner than they had expected.


	2. Heat of the Day

A/N: First actual chapter. Thanks for the support on the prologue, guys. Means a lot. Those of you worried about the progression of the IchiRuki relationship, you're in good hands. There won't be any sparked feelings for awhile. Otherwise, it just wouldn't be IchiRuki. Yes, this chapter is fairly short, but next chapter introduces Rukia, so be patient, please!

Disclaimer: Yuh, don't own these characters. Sadly. Or maybe I own their reincarnations? I wish…

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Sweat poured over his brow, his bare back, his chest.

The sun beat relentlessly down upon him, and he recalled the stories he'd heard others tell of days when Soul Society had not suffered from such heat.

Of days when there was a separate place called Earth where only the living roamed free, and Hollows were taken care of by the Shinigami of legend.

But that place no longer existed. What was left of this so called 'earth' was now one with Soul Society and both were one with the void that had once separated them.

Hueco Mundo.

The thin, white, gleaming towers of that royal city shone in the distance, a vast expanse of desert leading up to it. The strawberry haired male paused from his work to look up at it, hate filtering through the veins in his body. That place and its inhabitants were the cause of all this. All around him, beings such as himself, some mere souls, others living and breathing as he was, tilled the earth relentlessly under the ever unmerciful sun. His fingers tightened around the handle of his plow until his knuckles were white. It wasn't fair. The Arrancar, Espada, and few Shinigami that had betrayed the originals and run to Aizen were all housed there safely, feeding off of the souls of undeserving victims, living a life of luxury. He'd heard rumors of a beautiful garden within the walls of the place, a gift to Aizen's one daughter. The garden housed plants most of the people here had never seen; flowers were no longer a part of their landscape, just what measly crops the barren landscape could support.

Life was not easy for anyone here, and he was reminded painfully of that when a whip came down upon the bare of his back and tore a piece of flesh from him. A scream welled up in his throat, but he knew better to release it, and he tried to stomach the dizzying pain shooting through his body. They enjoyed their screaming far too much. The Arrancar that oversaw these fields were petty things that Aizen had no better use for, yet were alive enough in their beings to understand that they were not merely souls for prey. Even then, the occasional 'disturbance' was unavoidable. Ichigo leaned back into his work, beating at the unyielding soil.

Most of the workers had learned not to look when a soul was devoured, but there were nights when you could hear the younger children who had just joined the workforce sobbing. It wasn't from lack of want; revolutions had been tried, and had all ended in disaster. Aizen and his Espada were far too powerful, and they far too malnourished and weak from lack of food and too much labor. There was little hope for them now, and with the last of the powerful Shinigami dying each day or finally giving into Aizen, it seemed things would never get better. He himself had thought many times of trying to revolt, but he knew it was impossible. He had two younger siblings to look after once his father became a soul and was taken to a different part of the work force.

That was how things worked here; Aizen had thought up the perfect plan. The living were allowed to have children, and when they came of age, they could work. Be it the fields, building houses, constructing statues and temples, or even becoming feed for the Hollows, they had a purpose. And when they died, if their souls were still strong enough, they would be forced to continue their labor as a ghost. Once a soul became too weak to work, however, they were given to the Hollows who needed to eat. It was a sick, cruel process, but it was one Ichigo and those around him had come to accept. Each knew that one day they would be nothing more than food.

Ichigo beat his plow into the ground once more, chipping away at the hard dirt hidden beneath the sand. He could find no point in this unforgiving job, but this was his punishment. Punishment for throwing a brick at one of the Arrancar back at the building sight; he had been lucky that he was not put to death.

"Ichigo."

At the sound of his name, he paused at his work and glanced back at the person addressing him. It was a man, taller than him, black hair straight and down just to his chin. Ichigo had never seen him before, and judging from the white he wore, he had to have come from the palace. His brown eyes narrowed and he tried to keep his voice respectful. "Can I help you?"

The man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stayed calm. "Your presence has been requested by Lord Aizen. I am Ishida, and I will be overseeing your transportation." There was a pause, and he studied a bewildered Ichigo a long moment before continuing. "You have ten minutes to pack what measly belongings you may own; you will _not_ be coming back."

Ichigo's plow left his hands and hit the sand with a loud clank.


	3. Gardens and Slavery

A/N: Hey guys. I'm loving the reviews, and I've had a lot of people adding me to their watch list. If you guys could comment as well, that'd be so awesome. I'd love to get a bit more feedback on this whole thing. I might also start doing individual responses to commentors, but for now, it's just an all around thank you!

Secondly, some notes concerning this chapter: A few of you will wonder WHY Aizen would name his daughter "Rukia", after someone by that same name tried to kill him.

Also, I'm not very satisfied with this chapter at ALL. I'm having a bit of trouble getting my thoughts together with these first few. I know how things are going to turn out, though, so please be patient with this rough patch.

Well.

You'll have to wait and see what all is going to happen. And once more, sorry for the shortness!

Disclaimer: Oh, come on. I totally don't own Bleach or the characters, but a girl can dream, right?

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The garden was a mesmerizing place. At least, it was for her…yet then again, she was the only person in Hueco Mundo who ever visited it. Rukia Sousuke let delicate fingers trail over the wrought iron railing that descended down the cold, white marble stair case to the inviting colors below. It was peaceful here, quiet, and absent of the cruelties that were the center of her father's world. Here, she could escape the condescending stares of the Espada who were supposed to be her subordinates and escape the numb, bleak and emotionless words of a mother who had long since lost her own will. 

Here, she was welcomed by the sights and sounds of a world that no longer existed elsewhere. Of course, growing up, she had heard tales of the former Earth in all its glory, when the flowers bloomed each season and the trees decorated the land, and birds sang beautiful songs. Her father seemed overjoyed that such things had been replaced by a desert as barren and empty as Hueco Mundo, and her mother didn't seem to care either way, staying in the shadow of Aizen like a scared, lost child. Rukia was, apparently, supposed to share the same sentiments of her father. Yet for her sixteenth birthday she had asked for a garden, much to the dismay of the leader of the Espada. Her father had begrudgingly consented and brought what plant life he could to her, and Rukia had buried herself in her new home, taking care of the new plants and life she had found. She was eager to see what the small seeds and bulbs would one day become, to see what the wonders of Earth really did look like. Yet somehow, before she had seen her first rose, she knew what roses looked like. Before she had seen her first daisy, she could remember their smell, and knew that they would be white and yellow.

She had never given much thought to her knowledge of such things. They must have been mentioned in one of the stories some of the older Espada told. Instead, she had insisted that the project of the garden be hers and hers alone. This didn't bother anyone; disdain seemed to be the overwhelming emotion that came from nearly every member of the palace. She knew they looked at her as though she was some speck of dirt upon their flawless 'society'; she heard the whispers of how she was conceived to be no better than the peasants that worked the fields. But she ignored it and let the garden become her refuge, working relentlessly until it had become what it was today.

A small smile fell over her lips as she trailed down the stair case, taking in the wonders that she had brought to life with her own hands. In a world where death was everywhere, this place was a sanctuary. Bright blue eyes roamed the small landscape. The ivy that she had carefully hung had grown at a great speed, winding over the wrought iron supports and weaving it's way across the arch that marked the end of the stairs and the beginning of this new world. But just as her feet took her to that arch and the garden opened up before her, the sound her of name met her ear.

"Mistress Rukia."

It was a soft voice, and Rukia recognized it immediately. She turned expectantly to the red hair, the bright face, the eyes that were once so innocent and yet had now seen far too much. "Inoue." She stated back in greeting to the girl. She was her only friend here, the only person who ever looked at her as though she was something more than a blot of the otherwise flawless surface of her Father's regime. "What is it?" Surely Inoue was here for a reason. Rukia knew very little about the woman, only that she was very old and had been present during the days of the Great War, before Earth, Soul Society, and Hueco Mundo had become one. Yet even with her age, Inoue seemed to have run her original course of usefulness. She now served as Rukia's personal servant, and surprisingly, the older woman didn't seem to begrudge this too much.

Inoue gave a warm smile to the dark eyed girl standing at the bottom of the staircase, but there was something wistful in that smile. Rukia had never been able figure out exactly why she smiled like that, and Inoue had always politely requested to leave the reason a mystery. The subject saddened her immensely, and though Rukia's upbringing was one of stoic and cold uncaring, she had never pushed the subject further. "Your father sent me for you." The brown eyed girl informed her with a small tilt of a bow, and Rukia's brow furrowed. Why did her father want her? He very rarely requested her presence unless something big was occurring. With a sigh that said she was none to pleased with the situation (really, she had wanted to spend time in the garden) she nodded her consent and made her way back up the staircase, following her servant out quietly. It was a completely different world once they entered the hall. Hueco Mundo had never held much appeal for her; nearly everything was a cold, sterile white, a white so aloof and stoic that it seemed to be everything but pure. It reminded her of her father's regime, and yet…never once in her years had there been a single complaint from her. Her father knew what he was doing, and while she wondered over the marvels of the lost worlds, she knew that what existed now was for the better. The souls and humans that defied them were no better than the relentless desert heat they lived in. And while she wasn't fond of her father's methods of getting rid of useless souls, she had to admit that that, too, was for the best. What good was a soul that could not work? And what were the Hollows to feed on otherwise?

Rukia herself had been dead many years; her mother told her once, when she managed to get actual conversation from her, that she had died shortly after her birth. She hadn't been able to coax the reasons for her death out of her mother though. Hinamori Momo, former vice captain of her father's division when he had occupied the Gotei 13, was a shell of a being. It was with pity and slight disdain that Rukia viewed her mother's quiet, subservient attitude—her broken eyes, her hollow, crazed smiles. No one ever spoke of what had happened to the woman. Rukia did not want to know. She sensed, deep within her, that she would not like the answer.

The fall of footsteps echoed through the hall as the two women traversed the emotionless, empty distance to the great hall, and the walk seemed to take far longer than it should have. But soon enough it opened before them. As was customary, Inoue entered first and the dark haired young woman could hear her announce the Princess' arrival. Knowing her cue well, she entered the room with eyes shut and head held high, not needing to see the forced and stiff bows of the Espada. It was only after a few steps that she let her blue eyes slip open, and her gaze lingered on her mother and father, waiting patiently, and she made her way to their side and stood quietly at the left hand side of Aizen's great throne. "You requested me, father?"

There was no verbal answer to her, only a gesture out before them. With a confused blink, she turned her eyes to the place he gestured.

Something inside her dropped to her toes and a feeling arose in her stomach. For a moment she swore she knew the strawberry haired young man that stood, shirtless and scowling, hands bound behind his back. Auburn eyes met blue and for a moment the two stared. There was an overwhelming hate and defiance in his eyes, and she had to fight back the urge to swallow. Aizen was speaking and she forced herself to listen, coming in halfway to his speech. "…Ichigo. Do you accept, Rukia?"

A start. He had asked her something? Tearing her eyes from the youth who still scowled so fiercely, she licked her lips, and said in her best high and oh-so-mighty tone, "What father deems best, I will accept."

The one named Ichigo gave a shout of protest to this. Rukia wondered briefly what she had agreed to. The familiar feeling was gone and she knew now that she had never seen him in her life. But Aizen was smirking.

"Very well. He will be moved into the slave quarters and will begin his duties at dawn tomorrow."

A new slave. That was all it was. Her father had said something about getting her involved in palace affairs now that she was coming of age. This must be part of it.

Yet something about the smirk her father sported sent a shiver down her spine. It was the smirk that said he was up to something, and whatever that something was, it was not going to be pleasant.


End file.
